And Death flipped a coin
by starshine
Summary: "Death isn t good or evil, little girl. Death, simply, is. It can be timely or not. It can be calm or sad. May be a tragedy, may be a blessing. Death and rebirth are tied together, just as good and evil are. Two sides of the same coin. Or did you think it was a modern saying?"
1. Chapter 1

A fixit post 3.10 fic, sad but worth it and emptionally safe for everyone. Beware of spoilers.

AND DEATH FLIPPED A COIN

They realize it´s not really Ward soon enough, and that tiny bit of intel is the full extent of SHIELD´s progress in a long while. After the shock fades Skye runs searches on every face detection software known to man. She finds him again soon enough, but camera loses sight in a busy crowd. The third time is the charm. The team assembles, Coulson is livid but assures everyone that it´s totally impossible for Ward to have survived the wounds he received in their fight. He hasn´t taken back the Director´s mantle yet, and he doesn´t say another word during the entire meeting. It´s up to Skye to tell everyone to be quite careful. Whatever that thing is, it doesn't look like it´s trying to hide.

They gather every weapon SHIELD has, they corner it, and the freak deaths start. An accidental explosion, a heart attack, an agent going mad and shooting at his own backup. In the next weeks, the pattern repeats itself several times. They plan, they come, they try, and yet the ways they lose people seem infinite.

They hunt it restlessly, feverish in their fear that any day now an epidemic of biblical proportions will be unleashed on a major city. There was a reason this Inhuman had been banished to a deserted world, and worshipped by Hydra. The power of that thing is infinite, arcane, and whispers of an evil God that cannot be controlled expand among SHIELD ranks. They call it Death.

The fact that Death still wears Grant Ward's face is quite unnerving. They have already figured out that it possesses whoever it pleases – they see it happen on occasion. It never lasts too long, and when dust settles the not-Ward is back traveling the globe, appearing on CCTV cameras like he doesn't give a damn some times, yet avoiding them stealthily some others. They all start to suspect that Ward´s specialist knowledge is still there – an easy guess after the thing uses an identification that had belonged to their real Ward. Further investigation into how this works reveals that Death rarely uses combat moves, and whatever experience Ward´s memories provide seem to be more strategic and cultural in nature. Languages. Ways to travel in the modern world. Ways to get money.

Coulson decides to leave the base. He killed Ward, he curtly explains, and he now fears that this fact can make the creature come calling. He and Fitz share a long look as the latter makes the fitting for a new hand, and then Coulson´s gone.

"This is not running, this is strategy", May says, but it´s exactly that. Death never comes for SHIELD, and shows no interest in avenging the original owner of its body. It definitely recognizes them, though. It speaks with Ward´s voice, and casually calls them by their names, and all in all the way it carries itself is like it´s heard so much about them, and now that it has finally met them they are somehow lacking. Prosaic, compared to the image in its head.

Whatever. Skye has no time to dwell on it. The truly important thing is, whenever they find it and go after it, their people die.

She gets another CCTV recognition alert. This time Coulson´s unreachable, Mack´s injured by friendly fire from their last mission, Joey´s pretty useless since Death doesn´t carry firearms or blades and Lincoln´s gone. He´d never forgiven SHIELD for not destroying the portal immediately when they had a chance.

"You did this," he says to her and Coulson before going. "These deaths, and everything that´s yet to come, it´s all on you. You wanted so much to get a win over Hydra, that in the end you surpassed it by far."

The words burn, bright and truthful, and Skye cries herself to sleep that night. She wants to solve this. Save her world. Wakes every midnight and checks her feeds, and sure enough there is footage of it entering a building. Her heart skips a beat at seeing the overhead sign. It´s a children´s hospital.

She doesn't take anyone with her. It´s pointless. All force is pointless. No weapon works on something that can instantly heal itself, and the anti inhuman field fails since this particular Inhuman possesses genetically normal people and doesn´t seem to have a body of its own.

She goes alone. It´s 3 am, the basement where the creature headed is silent. The security guard near the morgue entrance is fast asleep behind his counter, his chest heaving reassuringly. He isn´t dead at least. Steps break the silence. Skye looks up to see the figure going through a door. It has his haircut, his stubble, his face and almost identical choice in clothes, but close up, there are striking differences with Ward. For a guy she´d once nicknamed Robot, he sure had plenty of facial expressions to choose from. Not-Ward´s face is… She struggles to find the word. Empty is usually used to describe zombies, but it isn´t it. This creature´s not empty. It´s serene.

Ward had never been serene. Not undercover with the team, not in the Vault, not working for Hydra. Even playing pretend to the best of his ability, he still secretly was full of… something. Hope, anger, desperation, pain… She doesn´t know what anymore, she only knows that Ward never knew peace in his life.

This creature is peaceful. Untroubled. It walks towards her, and Skye notices that it is cradling a dead infant´s body.

"You are monster," she manages, all but forgetting that she´d planned to avoid conflict inside a hospital. It´s only wishful thinking at this point, but Death had never harmed her, and maybe – maybe she can use this to her advantage.

"Am I?" the creature says. It cracks its neck, a gesture Ward never made himself, and to see the body she knew so well perform an unfamiliar tick is distracting. "Ironic that you´d use that word, considering that humans probably called you that same thing the moment that you turned."

"I´m not like you."

"What is the difference?"

She knows the answer. She´d learned it the hard way. It´s not the powers that define you, it´s what you choose to do with them.

"I don't kill," she says, voice trembling. "I don´t kill newborns."

"She was born dead," it responds calmly. "And now it´ll be reborn alive."

She doesn´t process this for a long moment, wondering why would this thing want to instill life instead of taking it. Then she understands the plan.

"Possessed by you? That´s sick."

"A less emotionally charged word would be reincarnation."

"I thought you rather liked your present host," she drolls, because this has quite quickly become surreal and she´s mouthy when she´s this scared.

"Oh, I do," Death says. "I could not wish for a better guide back into this world. I needed to adapt and gather my bearings, and he was resourceful, knowledgeable, and had excellent survival skills. It´s been a blessing. But now that I´m here… The lens he saw the world through is becoming a bit tiring, you know."

"Good as a survival expert, bad as a tourist guide?"

"Exactly," Death says and suddenly it smiles. "You´re a funny person. It´s strange, his memories keep telling me that, but I have never seen it until now."

"I don´t laugh when on a mission."

"And I´m your mission. May I inquire why?"

"Your power it to kill and possess people. You´re the ultimate evil!"

It sighs. Actually sighs, slowly and somewhat theatrically, and the gesture takes Skye back to when her Ward would sigh patiently at her training antiques.

"Millennia pass, yet people are still struggling with the fact of death. Death isn´t good or evil, little girl. Death, simply, is. It can be timely or not. It can be calm or sad. May be a tragedy, may be a blessing. I´ve lived a hundred lives, and most of them were longer than yours, child. I´ve lived as a slave worker, a pregnant woman, and a tribe chieftain. I´ve died calmly of old age and painfully of every disease known to man, of happiness and grief, by sinners´ hands and by saints´ mercy. Death and rebirth are tied together, just as good and evil are. Two sides of the same coin. Or did you think it was a modern saying?"

"Yet you've killed…"

"These who have attacked me. Yes. Wouldn't you? Your SHIELD keeps pursuing me all over the world. Why? Have I been out of line, unruly, or excessive? Because I could have been. Oh, but I could have been. You claim to be this world´s defense against all evil things, but all you do is lock away anything you don´t agree with, or cannot understand or control. You never think about what will happen if… when… one of your tormented prisoners succeeds in getting free? My vessel showed you that, sadly. Yet you still didn´t learn a thing."

Well, damn. Damn. Damn. Knowing that Death has Ward´s skills is one thing, but realizing that it also emphasizes with him changes the entire game. This creature thinks that its time on the sandy planet and Ward´s time as prisoner of SHIELD are similar. Wow. They were indeed lucky that no unholy plagues had yet been unleashed upon the world.

Skye shakes her head. It´s a good thing she´d come alone, then. A good thing that they can talk. She must diffuse this situation.

"It´s not like that", she begins fiercely. "He dug his own grave."

"… all his life, yes, gleefully helped along by every single person he´d ever loved. That´s not a thing to hiss about, child. That is a thing to mourn. The makings of a good Greek tragedy. He didn´t walk the path of war because he wanted to. He walked it because he´d never been allowed onto the one that lead to peace. I understand why he´d hope that paying others back in anguish would help him mute his own, for it´s a path I have long dreamed of taking. I´ve seen him walk this path. I´ve seen his devastation when it didn´t work, when nothing worked, when it became too late. Yet you should know, oh little naïve rookie, that even dying as he did, alone and hopeless and broken, he didn´t blame anyone except himself. Be thankful to him, for his lesson taught me enough to spare you all."

"And now you want to leave him for a newborn child."

"I´ve had enough of death and anguish. I want to experience living. A clean slate. You and your SHIELD will be quite wise to leave me be," it smiles. "Tracing this child´s whereabouts or interfering in her life might just unleash a ghastly pest the likes of which haven´t been seen in centuries."

He… It… A future she… Leaves the listless child on the security counter, still wrapped in a tiny hospital blanket. The night guard stirs, but doesn´t wake up. Skye thinks about all the ways she could establish the newborn´s identity. Then thinks about the future of the girl and her unlucky parents. About what knowing the whole truth would mean to them, and on second thought decides that maybe she shouldn´t even try. Maybe this centuries old, nearly all powerful entity does indeed know better.

She nods, feeling lightheaded and very daring, for all that she´s in grave danger right now. She´s so deep in things she doesn't understand, she feels like she´s once again the hayseed little rookie mouthing off to Ian Quinn.

"I´ll spare you the trouble of the pest for a much simpler bargain."

Death laughs.

"He liked you a lot, and weirdly so do I. Clever and fearless, and yet compassionate when you allow yourself to be. You want his body back, right? We have a deal, you can have it."

"And his soul," Skye counters immediately. "You´ll leave his dead body behind anyway, that´s not even a bargain to you."

SHIELD might call this creature Death, but she´s fairly certain other cultures used to call it Devil. Powerful yet easily bored, whimsical and droll. And a Devil´s bargain is never a straightforward thing.

"There is no such a thing as soul, it doesn't work like that. What you desire is for him to be alive and be himself."

"Yes."

"No. The man you wish to have back didn´t die on Maveth. He´d been gone for a long time at that time."

"How do you know?"

"Because I´ve seen and felt him go through every breaking point. He had had many, and managed to pull himself back from the brink many times… Until one day, he couldn't anymore. Bringing him back with memories of having his chest cavity slowly and viciously crushed while bound and defenseless won´t break the cycle."

Skye feels sick. Coulson said he´d killed Ward often enough, but never how. She had assumed a bullet, pictured a lucky shot well from afar hitting in a vital place. Upon Coulson´s insistence that Ward was very, very dead, she had suspected that he´d done it with a headshot. That thought… She hadn´t liked it. They weren´t executioners. SHIELD had been founded to help people, once upon a time.

"What was it?" She says.

"His prosthetic hand," the creature says and helpfully illustrates the gesture. "It went so deep inside, he couldn't get it out and had to leave it there."

It looks amused at her tears and the knowledge that this isn´t at all what she´s been asking. This creature has never physically acted against Coulson as he feared, but it sure just completed the most exquisite vengeance against him on Ward´s behalf.

"What was his breaking point?" She clarifies quietly.

"You don´t know? It figures, it was a pretty low-key one," Death baits her gleefully and cracks its neck before announcing in a theatrical whisper. "The worst ones always are."

"What was it?!" Skye screams.

"The audacity, my oh my…" Death drawls in delight. The whimsical side of it is fully out to play. An inquisitive, bright and cruel child watching a butterfly pinned under the magnifying glass and readying a scalpel. "Make no mistake, I might indulge our conversation, and I might spare Earth, and I might even let Grant go alive and with his memories intact… Or not intact… I wonder what he´d prefer? He´s been so goddamn helpful, I'm not completely averse to pay him back in kind… But where´d be the fun? And where´d be the test that´d show me that this time you all are ready?"

"Please…"

"Well, yeah, all right, it´s getting boring, let´s flip a coin."

Skye could cry, if only she weren´t already crying. Death doesn´t wait for confirmation and just winks at her. Ward´s right hand comes up as if to execute the throw, but there is no coin in it. He turns the palm towards the light awkwardly, and his sleeve rises up a little and shows the delicate skin of his wrist.

"The first pair of pants they gave me had a button on the back," he says. His voice is different now. Low and hoarse with shame. "They took that away, but if you fold a paper certain way…" Left hand comes up. The wrist area is also clean, since this infernal overhaul had seemingly returned Ward´s body to its original untarnished state, but Skye knows what he´s showing her. "After that I started running at the walls…"

He trails off now, just as he did then. This is her move. The coin is spinning, and the side it´ll land on is on her.

" _You should have run faster_ ," she mutters quietly as words from long ago echo in her mind. The coin drops. When she looks up, Death´s solemn eyes greet hers, and it dawns on Skye that she´s failed the test. The creature, still wearing Ward´s face, shakes its head sadly and walks away. It´s the very last thing Skye sees before the ultimate darkness claims her.

" _I´m sorry for this. Nobody deserves it_ ", she whispers through a closed throat. The coin drops. When she looks up, Grant´s lost expression greets her. The hope that colors his expression is an understated tiny thing, and Skye thinks sadly that Death had it completely right: the worst breaks are the quiet ones.

"It´s all right," she tells him before he starts to panic at the realization he´s neither in Vault D nor wearing his prison scrubs. Or worse yet - comes to fear that in absence of his scars she will immediately brand him as a liar and walk away. She´s done it to him once already, after all.

"What happened?" he manages, and she can see him scan the corridor for threats and exit paths. It´s a goddamn reflex drilled into him. No wonder even Death came to find him exhausting.

A lot of things, she thinks. Too many to recount. Turn after turn, blame after blame, until the humans were silenced and only monsters were left.

"We screwed up," she says. "All of us. But now we have a chance to do it better."

Behind them, a newborn baby starts to scream.

Author´s Note:

My dear Jeff Bell, Jed Whedon and Mo Taecharon. How does it feel to know that the entirety of your malicious 1.5 years long retcon and character assesination can be fixed in only 3K words by any fan across the globe? Does the fact that our love for Grant Ward will vastly outlive the TV run of your shit show keep you up at night? You have put so many thoughts, energies and episodes into destroying him, and yet people still believed in him. And so you capped off your childish hissyfit by killing him and selling out his body.

And you know what? I would like to thank you for being so so stupid. You can´t kill an idea, you sad hacks. It´s already out there. Grant Ward deserved better, but he belongs to his fans now. And we´ll make sure to keep him alive with us forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Death had warned Skye about what would happen if SHIELD didn't leave it be, but Coulson haven't been a wise man even before becoming a crazied killer. Now Death is out to teach him a lesson, and it just had to drag Ward into it.

Please note that this is a much darker installment. Contains graphic violence. People die and are resurrected. Still Skyeward at heart, but not of fluffy kind.

Skye shows up at the safehouse without the protocol warning call. Coulson just wakes up one morning, goes through his stretching routine, changes out of his pajama pants, secures his new hand to his wrist… And she´s suddenly right there. She´s paler than he remembers and won´t quite meet his eyes, but the message she brings him is clear.

Death is gone and isn´t coming back.

It´s not that Coulson isn´t overjoyed at hearing this. Of course he is. He hasn´t been enjoying his forced retirement in the slightest, but the greater good and SHIELD´s personnel wellbeing has always been the supreme consideration for him. So when Skye tells him, somewhat curtly, that he can come home, he´s glad. And yet… The choice of words and the weariness she utters them with alerts him. Can. Like she´s giving him permission, almost. Like she´s been considering whether she wanted to welcome her own Director back. Coulson had had Mack appointed Director because of many different considerations, and he knows perfectly well why he hasn´t once thought about Skye. She´s too soft, to gullible. Coulson has done his best to harden her to the realities of post–Hydra uprising world, but the change is slow. Painful for her. And there is still so much she must learn first.

He takes her word for it somewhat reluctantly, since Skye won´t offer any explanation as to what happened that had made the Inhuman disappear. The sightings stopped, but this doesn't mean much in Coulson´s opinion- it could even signal that the thing is readying itself to strike. But Skye believes that it´s gone, and she´d probably made Mack believe it, too, and so Coulson must come back if only to get the reins back and see firsthand what´s going on.

One month after, he´s gathered enough background info to be sure that Skye has had an encounter with It without anyone else present. He hates to think of her as compromised, but this thing has gone around wearing Ward´s face, so it stands to reason it could have harmed Skye and taken her body… While personally unbearable, professionally it´s too scary to even think about. Coulson lures her into one of the Inhuman containment boxes, closes the door and personally interrogates her for three hours. She´s unbelieving first, than fuming, that betrayed and angry. She repeats once and again that some secrets are better left well buried, and is heartbroken when every refusal to talk and every argument are met with Coulson´s heavy silence. The interrogation is exhausting because he loves Skye as a daughter, but this must be done for her own good.

Coulson steels his heart and presses on.

"I cannot know it you´re not It," he repeats over and over, in order to straighten his resolve.

"Of course you can. It´s freaking obvious. We knew it wasn´t Ward the second we laid eyes on him," she stubbornly retorts. "It doesn´t have the same emotions."

Skye´s knowledge of It only makes Coulson angrier at the breach of trust and all the more determined. It´s a long day, but by the end she´s in tears sitting on the floor and he´s tracing the whereabouts of a baby. It´s not exactly difficult. Half an hour in, SHIELD has the faces of the two young parents on their screens, and all of their credit card information. They are vacationing at some kind of family friendly natural resort right in the middle of nowhere.

Everyone frowns, and once again it´s up to Coulson to make the hard call as required of a Director.

"We´ll never have a better chance at this," he says. The region is remote and shielded, and if they have to minimize the collateral damage they´ll be wise to strike before the thing reaches populated areas again.

"How sure are we that it´s this Death thing and not a real baby?" Mack asks.

The answer, while heartbreaking, is clear enough. A being with enough power to end humanity makes for high enough stakes that it doesn´t really matter.

They attempt to empty the resort through some creative hacking of the electricity feeds that leave rooms with no light and no air conditioning, and hope that enough guests will choose to go hiking due to this. The plan is simple – destroy the host´s body once it´s far enough from any other potential vessels. Prevent it from entering a new body, then isolate the area and wipe it out with one of Fitz´ new anti Inhuman weapons. Skye wants to take point of the operation, but she´s a known face. Coulson sends in a trusted specialist to mix with the vacationers.

Ten minutes in, his comm. comes to life.

"Hey, Director?"

Coulson grips the other comm.

"Yes."

"You should come down here asap," the man says.

"Have you located…"

"Yes. It´s dead. All guests are dead, just lying scattered here and there," says the voice, and it´s sounding entirely too cheerful for this announcement. "I´m dead too, just so you know…" It actually snorts. It´s a short ugly sound that promises more ugly sounds.

Coulson´s grip on the comm. is so strong, the thing is in danger of being splintered in two. His teeth make an audible snap.

"What have you done?"

"Me? Tsk tsk tsk. What have you done, Director. Come here and see… and bring her, by the way."

Coulson´s entire body is a coil of anger, posed to strike at the first opportunity. He walks slowly, and Skye does the same to the right of him. All guests are indeed dead – these who stepped out of the building and these who stayed inside. There are no marks on them, no blood splats, just eerie stillness and silence. Entire families lie in circles near each other. The scene is remindful of one of Dante´s seven circles.

"You need to let me speak," says Skye. She hasn´t said much at all, and it´s a good thing. Coulson knows that she is angry and upset with him, but emotions have no place in such a dangerous and uncertain situation. Silence and obedience are the marks of a good operative, and he´s pleased to learn that despite all, she´s still one. They don´t have time for whimsy emotions, this is not how this war is fought.

"Coulson, I mean this. Let me speak."

Well… She´d talked this creature into hiding once, so she gets points for this.

"We´ll see," he says as they walk up to the entrance of the building, wondering what they´ll find.

Skye doesn't have the time to formulate an answer. She stumbles on the entrance steps and falls clumsily. Her head hits the wood with a dry sound. Her head bobs to the side, and Coulson sees a nail coming one inch out of a wooden plank. It´s covered in blood. There is a small round hole in Skye´s left temple. A loose strand of hair sticks to it.

A second passes while Coulson can´t respond – this is too out of the blue and too unnatural. He leans over her, and she slowly stirs. Sits with her hair tumbling over her face. Shakes her head. Stands. A single drop of blood slides slowly from her temple toward her neck. Her eyes are cold and angry. Skye´s eye have recently held anger many times, but they were never cold. She cracks her neck, and there is something slithering under her skin.

She – It – takes a moment to look around. Coulson´s gun comes up, but he can´t bring himself to shoot. The face in front of him is too familiar. By the time he´s told himself that it´s not her (and what this means, he can´t even start to process) the thing smiles, and he promptly realizes just how futile shooting it would be.

"Phil Coulson", the creature with Skye´s face says. "Well well well… You know, she holds you in such a high regard, the sheer ridiculousness of it is suffocating."

"What do you want," Coulson says, metallic hand closing in rage.

"What do I…" it laughs. "I wanted to be left in peace. She told you so, and yet you came after me."

She did, and she was wrong. She´d thought that a newborn wasn´t a threat, but this development shows otherwise. It´s not the time to discuss this though.

"Now I am here. Let the others and Skye go."

"Make no mistake, it was her secret. She´s just as much to blame. I manages to make her understand, but you changed her mind just as you always do. I bet you told her that one meager building full of dead was better than an entire planet." It goes silent, looking at Skye´s memories, and laughs again. "Yes, you told her so. A nice and moving speech. You wholeheartedly believe this, don´t you? Doing the wrong thing for the right reason. So eager to heroically sacrifice your conscience in the service of a greater good, right?"

"Yes," says Coulson, because this? This he believes unconditionally, and no infernal creature will ever be able to take it from him. He´s ready sacrifice everything to the greater good. Including himself. He´s dreamed of it since forever. A Captain America kind of sacrifice, a leader going down with his plane.

"Well, come in and have a seat. We shall examine this fascinating belief more closely." The creature guffaws with the kind of frosty glee that makes dark fairytales pale in comparison. It turns around and goes inside. It moves around with Skye´s grace and self assuredness, heeding none of the bodies laid out on the floor. Coulson follow, doesn´t move one inch. He won't capitulate to mass murderers.

The creature looks back.

"Would it help you feel heroic if I told you that you´ll be given a chance to bring all these poor souls back to life?"

After this promise, Coulson trails behind Death to the back of the reception. At a throwaway movement of its hand he´s made to sit in a corner. The thing that´s taken Skye´s light away from her eyes procures a tablet and a phone. It checks some things, and Coulson can only look on as its fingers fly over secret commands with the nimbleness of an experienced hacker.

It finds a number by tracing a credit card trail and hacking a phone company. Dials happily and doesn´t wait for the recipient to speak up.

"Hey Grant?" it says into the phone. "Skye and her boss have fucked up, you have an hour to present yourself to the following coordinates."

The hour goes by in complete silence. The creature is very occupied making good use of Skye´s computer skills. Soon enough, all SHIELD´s servers are open and on display for this infernal thing. Death sits on a small sofa with its legs crossed, sipping a soda and balancing the tablet on its knees, just as Skye always does. The leak is horrifying, and Skye´s fate as carrier of this disease is unbearable, but they'll fix this. They always have managed to fix everything.

Coulson is taken away from his furious dark musings by measured steps. He looks up and sure enough, there is Grant Ward entering the building. He´s in civil clothes, a faded pair of dark jeans and a black henley, with a gun tucked in the back almost as an afterthought. He isn´t posed to fight, and he takes in the dead bodies all around him rather steadily.

Coulson drills holes into the traitor´s face, wondering what kind of unholy alliance he´s been striking with that thing. Ward comes up to the not-Skye. He only stops when he´s very close – closer than Coulson has ever come to the creature. He takes in the hole in the creature´s – Skye´s – temple and the blood drying on its side, reaches into his pocket and offers a handkerchief silently.

The creature accepts and dibs at the blood trail.

"They screwed up," it announces scathingly. "I gave you all a goddamn present and they screwed up."

Ward doesn't act surprised. He´s somber and weary, and seems perfectly aware of the power of that thing. Having had it inside must have given him a certain perspective about how it works. He isn't scared of not-Skye, but he´s completely unwilling to even try to fight it.

"What can I do?" he simply says.

"Nothing," growls not Skye. "This isn´t about you at all."

It jumps to action, coming to stay in from of Coulson.

"Wrong thing for a good reason, that´s what you do. That´s what you´re proud of. Fine. Go on then. You´re the hero, and here´s your monster. Destroy him once again, and I'll let everyone go."

Coulson looks at it without understanding.

"He has nothing to do with our situation," he says. Skye had insisted that Ward´s memories hadn´t been restored fully and that he should be left alone, and while Coulson hadn´t planned on doing it, he´d of course concentrated on the creature first.

"Of course not. He´s simply a convenient example, and will help us illustrate your overall approach to their kind. Also, you´ve already killed him once. A second time cannot be very different."

Coulson grimaces and looks at Ward sideways. The man is very quiet for somebody who is being set up to fight against his one time killer.

"Does he even know what he´s done?" Coulson wonders.

Not-Skye´s face brightens in delight.

"No, but that´s easily solvable. Should I? Of course I should. He won't be a proper monster to be vanquished if he´s not aware of the reason for his punishment." It saunters up to Ward and puts a hand on his chest. Punches just a little, quite theatrically, and the man gasps breathlessly as if all air had gone from his lungs. "There, all set. He now remembers. Don't mind him, it´ll take a little to process. But then again, this isn´t about him. It´s all about you, so listen carefully. The thing you have to do to make this right is to destroy him. For every bone you break in Grant Ward´s body, I´ll let a person that your actions killed walk free."

Coulson feels sick. This is a spiteful game to it. Skye had tried to tell him. Had talked about ancient knowledge mixed with impatience and meanness, about transcendence and rebirth and petty devil tricks. He hadn´t listened, and now this… this thing with Skye´s face is smiling gleefully because it has him pinned.

He must really go through with this, it dawns on him. He must do all he can, fight with the best he´s got. His robot hand flexes in determination. Coulson goes over the easiest and most useful attacks: ribs, hands and face. If he plays this right, he´ll be able to get in a good number of punches and save a good number of people. He looks Ward´s way again, remembering to gun the traitor is packing, and is surprised to notice that Ward´s still pretty much out of sorts himself. He is frowning a little, still trying to make sense of all the new memories Death has just given back to him. Coulson is all set to get advantage of his momentous distraction and take possession of the gun, but then Death speaks again.

"Grant? Did you hear us?"

"Yeah."

"Everything clear? Any questions?"

The traitor visibly shakes himself and turns to Coulson.

"You didn't hurt Thomas, did you?" he asks, and for a second Coulson has to take stock of what exactly he´s asking. He shakes his head once, never taking his eyes off his opponent. He´s waiting for the moment Ward finally realizes what´s exactly being set up here, and reacts accordingly.

"Well, all is set it seems. And just for the heck of it, I hereby promise to give the girl back when all is done… And I´ll erase all images of the gruesome outcome of our game, provided you both manage to do this completely wordlessly."

This is a worthy offer. This creature is so Skye-like that Coulson has trouble remembering that she´s technically gone. To have her come back and to spare her the ghastly visuals will be a blessing. Coulson will have no problem doing his unpleasant duty, but he still cringes at the idea that she´ll see him doing it. It was bad enough with Fitz. Skye is another matter altogether.

He nods, and in the same movement turns around to lunge at Ward, only to see him extending the gun toward him, handle first. The look on the man´s face says everything his mouth isn´t allowed.

He hasn´t even thought about fighting Coulson.

Coulson´s heart skips a beat, and a wave of heat crawls up his neck. His heart rate had risen in anticipation of the fight, but now he´s completely paralyzed. He can´t even extend his hand to take the gun away from Ward. His thoughts scatter trying to make sense of this sudden development.

This isn´t going to be a furious and even fight. It´s going to be a brutal and drawn out execution.

Ward shrugs, and proceeds to carefully lay down the weapon. He then flexes his hands briefly, looks down at himself, takes the jacket and the watch off. When he comes back to stand in front of Coulson he´s barefoot and somber, mouth set in a tight firm line. Coulson has no insight into his thoughts but the situation doesn´t seem all that new to the man. He just stays there, not even looking at his former boss directly but simply staring at one of the buttons of Coulson´s shirt, and waits.

This creature is sick, wants to say Coulson. It played us all. It set us up. I won´t enjoy this despite everything.

He says nothing at all. Death has known exactly what Ward would do, and it had set its trap accordingly. Coulson bites his lip, closes his human fist and punches hard twice. Ward´s head snaps to the right with the first strike, going with the blow in a practiced way and sparing himself the worst of it. The second hit, he meets head on. Blood starts to flow from a badly split lip, which he doesn´t bother to touch. He just rights himself and waits for the next blow to fall.

Coulson hits him again, face and then ribs, and it´s only at third or fourth attempt that he gets any bones cracked. It´s one thing to do this while enraged or meeting opposition. It´s quite another to deliver punishment on an unresisting man. He´s a monster, Coulson tells himself. If Ward had known to ask about his brother, he knows exactly what he´s done to everyone. This isn´t truly different from what Coulson did back on that planet. More extended in time, more intimate now that Coulson´s body feels the exhaustion of the hits, but it´s not different. Grant Ward deserves to die. Isn´t this what even Death had wanted?

He hits him once again, struggling to hold on his rage. He punches and hits and kicks, and then he´s panting wildly and Ward is kneeling at his feet. The sounds Ward makes while catching air are wet and ragged. He looks up as soon as Coulson stops and painfully gets back up to his feet. Coulson cringes a little at how slow and painful his movements are. He is actually trying to give the younger man a second to gather his bearings, but in absence of any understanding between them, he heeds Ward´s cue and goes at it again. Ward is right. It´s better to end this quickly. Coulson he has the feeling that once he stops and breathes, he won´t be able to start again.

The entire situation just gets worse and worse until it´s downright hideous. Ward falls to his knees again and this time he doesn´t try to get up. He won´t even look up from the floor. His shoulders are shaking, and Coulson stops and reaches to him to steady the man and pull him up.

Ward reacts violently, twisting away from his grip. Coulson´s on high alert immediately. He tells himself that Ward is a fighter. He might put up a good front for a while, but he isn´t going to allow himself be beaten to death without resisting. Coulson should still be very careful…

The actual truth is that he mostly feels relief. This will be so much easier if Ward´s fighting back.

Instead of fighting, the man leans further down and heaves once and again, the sound of it mixed with subdued grunts of pain as his broken ribs grate in his chest. Blood and bile splatter on the floor. Even when the worst is over the man stays down, panting and trembling and not quite there. He takes breath after breath, and a full minute passes before he manages in a hoarse, dry voice. "Huh. Sorry."

He´s talking about ruining Coulson´s tactical shoes, which are now level with his eyes, and the incongruence of it makes Coulson miss the true significance of what just happened. Ward gets with the program quicker than him and proceeds to swear colorfully under his breath.

"This thing is sick," Coulson says, because now that Death "no words" rule is broken, he wants this off his chest. Whatever bad blood is between them, he doesn't want Ward to think that he enjoys this. He isn´t a vicious bastard. He only does this because it´s for the greater good. "This goddamn thing is the epitome of evil."

Ward doesn't seem interested in discussing Death´s moral stand. He just lays there with his eyes closed and waits, grateful for the respite.

"I don't enjoy this," Coulson insists. "But I will do it. I have to."

Again, no obvious reaction. Well, no. There is a harsh little laugh, the sound of it mocking and discouraging.

"Me letting you do this isn't enough?" Ward drawls. "You want my signed blessing?"

Yes, he does. He wants to hear the man say he understands what´s going on. He wants Ward to tell him the there is indeed no other choice, that he´s doing the right thing. He wants to hear Ward absolve him, tell him that he´s still the hero and not… Not…

Coulson´s unsteady on his feet. He feels as weak as Ward looks now, and he´s panting just as hardly. He delivers yet another kick, and before his foot connects he already knows it´s too weak an effort to break anything. Ward´s entire body convulses in soundless pain nonetheless. The next kick Coulson delivers goes against the wall. He kicks at it and hits it with his hands, leaving bloody handprints. He lets out a scream. He hits his head once. None of it makes him feel better.

He finds Death sitting in the restaurant, engrossed in the internet, a cocktail at its lips.

"You done?" It says.

"Yes," he pants. "No. No more."

It puts the glass aside and cocks its head again – its signature gesture Skye never used to make.

"You sure? Should I go evaluate your handiwork?"

"Stop this!" he screams.

"Oh wait, your handiwork is all right here… Take a good look!"

It points at a big decorative mirror on the far wall. Coulson steps up to it slowly, and when he gets to see what not-Skye sees he lets out a wail. The man he sees has bloodshot crazy eyes, sweaty and tangled hair, and blood smeared everywhere. His shirt will never be white again. The expression is the worst of all, though. He has the look of a mad fanatic, a delusional and wild fiend.

Not-Skye steps up behind him. The all consuming anger is finally gone from her beautiful eyes. The creature looks solemn now, wise beyond any human age. Understanding. Almost sad.

"I´m proud to do the wrong thing for the right reason," it whispers in his ear, and he knows that he´s to repeat it. He does so. Sees the reflection move its lips. Feels the shame close up his throat, twist the heart out of him, annihilate him.

"The thing about Ward is, he´s done his share of awful things, yes. He´s just a man, though. One traitor among, what, several hundred infiltrated Hydra soldiers? You, though… You were an idea, Phil. Embodiment of dignify, of dedication, wisdom and compassion. And in less than two years you allowed yourself to become… This. This pitiful thing you see right now."

"Please…"

"Please what?"

"I can´t… I will do anything, but not that… Please… I will do anything…"

"Anything?" it repeats sadly. "You haven´t learned at all. The young girl understood way better."

Coulson shudders. He can´t do this. He can´t think, he can´t talk to this thing, he can´t look at himself, he just… He can´t. He turns around and runs.

Ward is still in the same position Coulson left him. The wounded man is slumping tiredly against the wall, half laying and half sitting. Despite everything, he tries to stand when he realizes the direction in which Coulson´s steadfastly heading.

"Don´t you dare," he growls angrily, and coughs more blood up for his effort. "This isn´t over yet. This isn´t about you. Don´t you dare take the easy way out."

Coulson can´t stand to listen. The safety of the forgotten gun comes off, and the last sound out of his lips is a hysterical laugh. He´d have never guessed that the final words he´d hear in his life would be spoken by Grant Ward.

"You goddamned coward."

He´s back just as suddenly as he went out. Between one moment and the next there is exactly zero time, events or memories. He´s sitting in his chair, in his own office at the SHIELD base. He feels perfectly fine, if very disoriented.

"..many political accomplishments, but on a personal level this host was becoming simply unbearable," he hears Fitz´s voice say. Sure enough, the petite Scottish genius is sitting in a chair in front of him, absently playing with Coulson´s favorite Captain America figure. He stops speaking and tilts his head to the right in Death´s telltale gesture. "This guy is clever, wow. No offense to others but, he´s on a completely different level."

There is a neat little hole in Fitz´ temple, Coulson sees. Coulson´s own hand is gripping the still warm weapon. The year is 2016. Months have passed.

"I thought you had a United Nations meeting in a week," says Skye. She´s reclining in a chair to Coulson´s left, boots on the table.

"I do," not-Fitz agreeably nods. "And I´ll go back into good old Phil´s body for that occasion. Also, now that I finally understand what this guy Fitz had been trying to tell us for a week, he was completely right. That nuclear power station in the Goby desert is highly suspicious. I want to personally take a look over this weekend. Grant, you´ll be my ride. If you have plans, cancel them."

Ward is neither sitting down nor defiling Coulson´s collectibles, but the sheer fact that he´s there and he´s at ease is enough to have the Director´s eyes bulging.

"Fuck you," is the insightful thing he says.

Skye sends him a look that seems to be placating.

"He doesn't know," she says in a stage whisper.

"He knows," Ward winces. "Yesterday wasn´t the first time that we talked."

"You asked me out before yesterday and didn´t realize it wasn´t me?" she sounds scandalized.

"Excuse me for concentrating on your possible reaction and not the fact whether you were, you know, you!"

"Then I concur. Fuck you so very much," Skye tells not-Fitz. "We need some basic rules, you guys. Weekend possessions are to be planned in advance. And if find out that I´m kissing the wrong being, I´ll flip and bring this base down on your heads."

Through all of this, Coulson sits quietly and wonders if maybe Skye could bring the base down a bit sooner. The situation is surreal as it is, but the fact that people in his office seem to be perfectly cool with it is even weirder. The otherworldly cruelty of the creature is fresh on his mind, and yet here it is, allowing Ward to openly complain and Skye to pretty much boss it around. The last drop is the fact that both Skye and Ward seem to be pleased to welcome Fitz into their selected dead-but-resurrected circle.

"We will discuss a schedule promptly," the creature inside Fitz concedes. "The four of you might yet become one of my best horsemen across all ages, lack of apocalyptical imagery notwithstanding. I wonder though, now that I´m in Fitz´s mind... Four is of course the customary number, but flexibility never hurt anyone… This Simmons lady seems to be incredibly remarkable."


	3. Chapter 3

It's bad, but not because of all the pain. Physical hurts, Ward can endure endlessly. It's bad because of the mindfuck he'd just went through on top of everything else. One extra year of memories has just been downloaded into him, encrusted into his mind by a wrecking ball. He doesn't think that he can take it. Doesn't want to look, but his eyes feel glued open and gruesome images wink at him. Kara and Tom and his own death, and the knowledge that everything that happened after Vault D was infinitely worse than anything he's done before landing in SHIELD custody. He hadn't thought it possible. Skye hadn't wanted to tell him any details after his sudden resurrection, and that in itself had been his warning. He'd bailed as soon as he felt oriented enough. In the weeks that followed he'd reconstructed certain things. He'd retracted the travels of the creature wearing his face. He'd learned that Death visited all 5 continents and went around the world four times. Went up the Eiffel Tower, into the Sahara, in and out of the Bombay slumps. And then, at certain point, his journey led him to a Hydra castle, a Von Strucker vault, a tiny apartment with an abandoned sniper rifle, a warehouse full of weapons and a Hydra logo on a wall.

He'd stopped then, knowing that the last part wasn't the creature's work, but his. Knowing that somehow, he'd ended up willingly working for Hydra, pointedly hurting people he'd done his damnest to protect. He hadn't thought it possible. Interminable night after interminable night, he'd laid awake and tried to come up with a scenario where in under a year he'd end up like that. He never managed to do it. There was no logical path for him where he'd willingly reject whatever little chance to make amends Coulson, Skye and SHIELD would offer him.

And now he knows. There were no amends. There was no making up for anything. He had been kept alive inside that Vault because he'd been of use, and then Christian the politician became more useful. The newfound memory of how the house had smelled when set on fire makes him gag. No wonder he threw up. He feels like throwing up again, however painful the movement might be.

He doesn't care all that much about Coulson's monologues about how much he hates beating him up. The man stopped making sense the minute Ward recovered his memories. Apparently, Directorship made Coulson's conception of right and wrong change on a whim. Selling out Ward himself, he can understand, but heartlessly abandoning Kara? Threatening her life in order to get to him? And now, suddenly, it looks like Coulson wants to talk it out again... It irritates Ward, but the man's poor attempts at soothing him in between blows designed to break his body irritate him more. Do or don't, but this is wanting to have the cake and eat it. You can't play for both sides, he'd learned that the hardest way.

It's a relief when Coulson disappears for a while, and he uses the minutes to lie quietly and allow himself to float away. It won't last long, and then maybe it'll all be over and this time stay that way. According to his memories, he'd found peace on that alien planet, upon looking the goddamn Hydra Jesus in the face. He remembers saying something along these lines to Coulson, and it feels like a sick joke. One death, one resurrection, one mindfuck and one infernal beating later, peace has proven to be a relative term. Whoever is writing his life's story can go fuck himself with that cactus Ward'd apparently once fancied to put on Kara's windowsill.

His head swims despite his prone position, meaning he's nearing hypovolemic shock. He thinks about Tom again, and Kara, and about Fitz who by now hates him, and lastly about the fact that Skye should have known better. She had been so hopeful when she'd told him that they'd got a second chance at making everything right... Deals with the devil never end well, apparently.

Skye's dead now, by the way. Ward doesn't want to examine this knowledge too closely. Maybe when he dies, the creature will slink back into his body and let Skye go free. It's extremely unlikely - Ward's a decent killing machine but she's an Inhuman with incredible power. Anyone would be stupid to let her go, Death included.

Coulson comes back briskly, new determination in his steps, and makes a beeline for the discarded gun. The shock of it gives Ward strength to try and sit up. He's beyond pissed all of a sudden. He's done his part, he's taken his punishment and he's made it as easy for Coulson as he could. What more does the guy want? He screams at the older man because he'd seen the dead people scattered all over the lodge, but words come out weak as he's having trouble sucking enough air, and are silenced by the gunshot. Then, everything is quiet.

Somehow, this is much worse. Coulson, at least, had some insight from the hours he'd interacted with the creature, and also whatever intel Skye might have given him. Ward seems to only be good enough to be used as a puppet by that thing, and isn't that an appropriate designation for him? He'd laugh, it the movement wasn't so painful. He leans back against the wall and waits, because at least one ankle and one knee are badly broken and he sees no point in trying to stand up now. He hears steps resonate ritmically as Death comes near to observe its work. What a grotesque picture they all make. Coulson's dead body lies slumped in one corner, Ward's semi-alive body lies across the room. Blood everywhere. Smell of gunpowder. And not-Skye walking amidst it all with a regal, superior expression.

She's never once looked superior to anyone when she'd been alive.

He wants to remind Death that it promised to let her go. He can't, though, because Coulson didn't uphold his end of their bargain, and because it feels wrong to do so when there are dozens of bodies scattered across the building. Ward feels like he should beg for them, if he's to open his mouth at all. He doesn't feel like begging, though. It'd never gotten him anything except more of whatever thing his fearful words betrayed as his deepest fear. Latest case in point, Coulson handing him over to Christian.

Not-Skye comes up to him and surveys its - Coulson's- handiwork. The creature wears such a concentrated expression, he starts to hope that this gore pleases it enough to make up for SHIELD's transgressions. It looks at Ward's face last of all. It studies him for a long while.

"You haven't met me before," it says, "but I have met you. I know you very well."

"So I was told," Ward answers.

"I didn't mean to bring you renewed anguish."

"No problem," he answers cheekily and smiles through the blood drying on his lips. He'd always smiled when he's been in pain - it doesn't make whatever's happening go away, but it trumps crying. "Anything else I can be useful for?"

It looks at Ward as if it knows exactly what's going through his mind, which it probably does. It's been inside of that same mind for months, after all. The way the change happens is instant, and weird - not-Skye doesn't even touch Coulson, and suddenly his goddamn dead body is flexing its hands and trying to stand and Skye is... She blinks, wavers on her feet, catches herself, then looks wildly around. The first thing she sees is Ward awkwardly splattered at her feet. The second is Coulson blinking up at her despite the round hole in his head, and her breath catches in understanding.

"He killed himself," Ward says defensively, and maybe this isn't the best starting point, but it's a knee jerk reaction. He's been trying his best to do his part, and it irks him that Skye'd think that he got involved in this on his own accord, or that he deserved the beating. "It made me come so that Coulson could entertain it by killing me again, but somehow our brave Director ended up shooting himself."

"Why?" She stutters. "How?"

He doesn't have an answer to that, just shrugs with the one shoulder that's less pain ridden and tries to slide further down the wall. Seeing Skye alive and well saps what is left of his energies, and he'd be content to just curl up and let the craziness go on without him. The shock is a foregone conclusion, he knows. The apathy and the cold sweat are dead giveaways. There isn't enough visible blood around him to warrant this, so it must be an internal bleeding. He feels hysteric laughter bubble up at the occurrence that he's about to compare two different ways to die. Suffocation and blood loss. Both caused by internal injuries inflicted by Phil Coulson. He stomps the urge down, trying to go easy on the ribs, but his expression must still be a poem because Skye is choosing to look at him over the spectacle that is Death making itself comfortable in Coulson's body.

She towers over him uncertainly surveying the damage, then kneels and touches his shoulder. The bad one. Ward does his best to turn his grimace into a tight lipped smile and knows that he's most probably failing. He winces awkwardly wherever she touches him and tries to hold the urge to hiss inside, knowing it won't take her long to desist. Skye's hands hover over his forearms, his torso, try to open his shirt and stop once she realizes the futility of her efforts. There is nothing for it, nothing she can do to set bones on the floor of a rustic lodge. She's only making everything worse.

She settles on the floor near him, holding her trembling hand on his thigh where is doesn't bring any pain. Her fingers flex and straighten in an absent petting gesture. Ward can't feel it through his jeans, the overall haze and the assorted hurts that reclaim his attention, but he sees it. It's enough. Smallest things have always been enough for him.

They both look on as Death takes possession of Coulson's body. His wound closes. His body straightens, his demeanor changes from frantic back to his self assured self. He pats himself down and cleans his clothes. It's eerie, how similar Coulson and not-Coulson look. Where with not-Skye Ward had been able to immediately feel the otherness of the creature inside the hacker's body, this time Death seems to have found the perfect camouflage and looks cozily at home.

"You have us," says Skye as soon as its attention is centered on the two of them. "Let the civilians go."

"Your boss didn't uphold his end of our bargain," it says while looking disappointed but not at all surprised. It's a look that suits Coulson the Director perfectly.

"What was the deal?" Skye asks. Death had promised to keep her in the dark about the unpleasantries of their pact if Ward and Coulson didn't exchange a single word while hashing it out. Ward had slipped somewhere down the road, though. He cringes. He's nauseous and getting worse by the second, but the idea of Skye learning the gory details upsets him more than the prospect of more abuse coming to his broken ribs.

"He had to kill me," he tells her curtly what she already knows, leaving the details out.

It smiles smugly, pointedly letting Ward know that it's onto him and only indulging him because it feels like it. The creature comes near and takes stock of his injuries, and Ward wonders if it's truly counting his broken bones. He grinds his teeth together and waits for the verdict.

Death looks up, but it's not a number of spared civilians that's on its lips.

"He has," it says. "Spleen and liver both busted and actively hemorrhaging. You have ten minutes. A quarter of hour, tops."

"Good," Ward spits out. Skye gasps, but he's beyond the point where he'd give a damn about anyone knowing what's on his mind. Her being at his side means more than he can ever tell her, but he's way too tired. There is a limit to the number of times he can be expected to pull himself up by his bootstraps before they break. That limit have been vastly exceeded last year alone. He'd just been made to forget it.

Now he remembers again.

"Save him," Skye chooses to ignore him and address Death head on. "You did before. You said you liked him. Punish Coulson, punish me. We came after you despite your warning." The self assured commanding notes in her voice mix with a badly hidden plea. "Please. Grant hasn't done anything against you."

Death looks at Skye. Ward pointedly doesn't. He pulls his good leg closer to his body for better maneuverability, tries to sit up again and leans forward to stop supporting himself against the wall. His head swims at this, and his vision tunnels out, but he knows what this "saving" will entail and he'll be damned if he allows that thing inside his mind again.

"No thanks, I'm good," he manages and makes another attempt at increasing the distance between not-Coulson and himself. He didn't fight the real Coulson while perfectly healthy, but he knows that if Death comes near him he'll fight with everything he's got.

Skye's hand is on his neck and then on his forehead. It feels like she's trying to get him to lean on her, but that's out of the question. Ward shakes his head and tries to re-access the situation. His hearing wavers just as much as vision does. He feels like he's wandering through cotton, if cotton was ice cold.

To his relief, Death doesn't move at all, except for holding its hands up in a placating gesture.

"Grant... Come on, Grant, this is absurd," Skye gently calls him back. She sounds like she is coaxing a small child into the dentist office. He doesn't answer, just moves his head in a stubborn gesture, and she sucks in a breath and says way more urgently and loudly. "He doesn't know what he's doing. Just help him now, we'll deal with this later! Just do it!"

"He feels strongly about his autonomy, however little of it he actually has and however recent this attachment is," Death says. "He's had his will overridden way too many times. I'm not going to destroy it."

Skye goes silent, her thumb running up and down Ward's neck, behind his ear. If he was more present, it'd be tickling him. As he's now, the contact simply anchors him. He shudders, Skye's soft dejected whine washing over him. He doesn't want for her to watch this, and he doesn't necessarily want to die right now. He's a survivor, isn't he? But the idea of having that thing inside of him - however briefly, however benignly, however little new information it'd gather this time about him - is a line he doesn't think that he can bear to cross.

He looks up at not-Coulson and thinks back to all the times he'd talked to the real man. He used to like him, once upon a time. Used to wonder about how different he and Garrett seemed. Recently he'd come to wonder about how similar they both ended up being, and how the evilest of all Hydra's creations is having more patience with him than Coulson ever had. Death's eyes are what Coulson's eyes had never been - patient and questioning without presuming anything. It's calming, not being put under the microscope and constantly being found wanting. It dawns on Ward that among all the powerful people he'd ever known, this being is the first one to not do anything to him "for his own good", and yet against his will.

This understanding is enough to allow him to finally relax and bury his head into Skye's neck.

"Do it," he manages to get out before his resolve and the sudden insight it's based upon can waver. One shared look to make quite sure that he means it, and Death surges forward.

World goes black.


End file.
